


Jonathan Wets His Breeches

by Azelto



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azelto/pseuds/Azelto
Summary: Exactly what the title says.
Relationships: Arabella Strange/Jonathan Strange
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Jonathan Wets His Breeches

As was the case for many new spells that Jonathan had tried to invent, this one did not appear to be working. The potted tulip on the desk in front of him was still wilted, the soil still dry.

He had wanted to invent a spell to make water fall from his fingertips. It sounded simple enough, and unlike the time when he had made the book change places with its reflection, it actually had a function. Or at least, it would have done if it had worked.

Jonathan sighed and paced the library. What was it that he had done wrong?

But before he could contemplate any further, he realised that he needed to urinate, and sooner rather than later. It was odd because he hadn’t remembered needing to do so a few minutes ago. Perhaps he had just been so absorbed in his studies that he had lost touch with his body’s needs.

He hurried down the stairs and through the back door to the outhouse.

When the stream started, he gasped; if he had waited any longer he knew he would have started to dribble. It was long and thick, a deep shade of yellow. He must have needed to go for hours if this much was coming out. If Arabella found out about this she would accuse him of being too careless - imagine if he, a grown man in perfect health, had an accident in his own house?

Still breathing deeply from the relief, he went back inside.

Only to be hit with a need just as intense less than five minutes later.

After running back to the outhouse, the same amount of urine as before came out, and the same colour. How much tea had he drank while he had been studying?

The stream ended after almost two minutes, and he shook himself and then buttoned his breeches back up.

Going back inside and up the stairs, he had almost reached the library when the intense need hit again.

That was when he realised the spell must have gone wrong: instead of his fingertips producing water, it was his bladder. Somehow he must have made a silly mistake. Even though they were two very different parts of the body, he supposed that because they were both parts of _his_ body, that was where the error must have occurred. Now he had to try to find a way to undo the spell before he wet himself.

Of course, this proved to be much more difficult than Jonathan had envisioned. He found his chamber pot and brought it into the library, then found a couple of spares, and just to be safe he asked Jeremy to go to the market and buy some more. But the difficulty of trying to study while needing to urinate every five minutes was far too great for him to get anywhere with finding a way to reverse the spell. Just when he would think he was onto something, the need would return and in the panic of locating the chamber pot and the blissful relief of using it, he would forget whatever it was he had discovered and was now back to where he had started.

This continued for far too long, and eventually Jonathan found himself sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by chamber pots in various stages of being filled.

How was he going to eat dinner? How was he going to sleep? How was he going to do anything when all he could think about was where the nearest chamber pot was? Perhaps Mr Norrell could help, but Jonathan couldn’t bear the shame of trying to explain his predicament to his teacher.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Jonathan?” It was Arabella.

_Oh no_ . How was he going to explain this to _her_? She wouldn’t want to be married to a man who couldn’t stop urinating. His whole life was ruined; he would never be able to continue his profession as a magician, and now his wife would no doubt want to leave him.

Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, he used one of the chamber pots and then opened the door.

“Jonathan, what have you been doing in there?” Arabella asked. Then she sniffed, “That smell, is that -”

“No, it’s er... It’s magic! It’s the smell of magic! Didn’t you know that magic has its own smell? Surely having been married to a magician for so long you would know-”

“Oh come on Jonathan, I’m not _stupid_ , I know what urine smells like. Why have you turned the library into an outhouse?”

“I…” Jonathan considered trying to make up a lie, but he knew Arabella could always tell when he wasn’t being honest. So the only thing he could think of to do was tell the truth. He sighed, “I was trying to invent a new spell, when it somehow went wrong and now I have to use a chamber pot every five minutes.”

He had expected Arabella to shout at him. Either that or she would put her head in her hands and curse the day he had first thought of becoming a magician.

But she did none of those things. Instead she smiled, and began to laugh.

“Oh, Jonathan,” She shook her head, but not in disappointment; her eyes sparkled. She held out her hand. “Come to bed.”

At first his mind couldn’t process the words. “Bed? Why? There are no chamber pots in our room, I brought them all down here-“

“Leave them.”

“But I need-”

“Bed. _Now_.” Arabella was already walking down the corridor in the direction of their bedroom.

Despite having no idea what was going on, Jonathan wanted to know why Arabella wasn’t angry with him. So he picked up the least-empty chamber pot and followed her, aware that it wouldn’t be long before he next needed to use it.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed and the curtains were drawn, Arabella pulled him into a kiss, her breathing heavy and hungry as if he hadn’t satisfied her for years. He had to pull away for a moment to put the chamber pot down, and then she was all over him; one hand tugging the back of his jacket, the other grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Bel… what’s this all of a sudden?” He asked in between kisses.

“When will you next need to… use the chamber pot?” Arabella ran a hand down his back.

“Er… I suppose in about a minute? Maybe less? You can leave the room if you don’t want to see -”

“Don’t use it.”

“What do you mean? I will have to, otherwise I will have an accident!”

Arabella put her hands on her hips. “You will not use the chamber pot until I tell you to, Jonathan. Do you understand?”

It was then that the realisation dawned on him: she found this arousing. She _wanted_ to see him desperate to urinate. The thought made him draw in a sharp breath, but despite wanting to let her have her fun with him, his cock remained flaccid. Was it his instinctual anxiety about the possibility of having an accident as an adult? Or perhaps it was another side effect of the spell. Either way, it didn’t seem likely that he would be able to prolong the inevitable by having an erection.

He nodded. “Yes, yes Madam, I shall do as you ask.”

She smiled. “Good boy. Now sit down on the bed for me.”

Swallowing, Jonathan sat down and Arabella sat beside him, and she pulled him into another kiss, although this one was much less rough. Her hands travelled over his back, mapping out his shoulder blades, his ribs, the curve of his lower back. Breathing in her smell, he caught the scent of roses and soft things.

“Let me know when the need comes.” She murmured, parting her lips from his just enough to be able to speak.

“Believe me, you will know.”

“Perfect.” She smiled, then resumed kissing him.

That was when the need returned.

Jonathan gasped, panic rising as he jerked out of her embrace and shoved his hands between his legs. “I need to use the chamber pot!”

“No.” Arabella laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Please! You can’t see me have an accident-”

“Jonathan, look at me. Remember what I said? You are _not_ to use it, no matter how bad it becomes.”

He dug his fingernails into his palms and shuddered, torn between his body’s need and his desire to please Arabella. Looking at her, he could see that she was breathing deeply and her pupils were dilated. To submit to her in this way would be like nothing he had ever done before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation made his skin tingle and his heartbeat quicken. Of course he would fulfil her wishes; once they were in the bedroom, he was hers to control.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and placed his hands by his sides, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling.

His bladder was almost completely full; if Arabella asked him to stand up or move about, he knew he would be in danger of leaking. He tried not to look in the direction of the chamber pot, as the mere sight of it might cause him to feel like he would burst.

Arabella stood up. “Leave the chamber pot and take my hand.”

“But I need it -”

“Do as I _say_ , Jonathan. Unless you want me to spank you?”

“No, no I don’t…” His voice trembled as he stood and let her lead him away from their bedroom, away from the chamber pot, and down the stairs.

As they walked through the house, he had to take the utmost care not to leak; he had to bend over slightly as he couldn’t even stand up straight without upsetting his bladder. All his concentration was focused on making sure he didn’t slip or step on an uneven floorboard, so much so that he was totally unaware of where Arabella was taking him.

When Arabella stopped he almost squealed at the sudden movement; he grabbed himself and doubled over, gasping and shuddering and almost in tears.

“Look where we are.” Arabella said.

Jonathan looked up and realised she had brought him to the parlour.

Now he started to cry.

“ _Fuck…_ ” he said as the tears spilled down his cheeks.

The last place he wanted to have an accident was in the parlour. The stain would be impossible to get out of the rug and it would be on full display to anyone who came to visit.

“Now you wouldn’t want to have an accident here, would you, Jonathan?” Arabella looked down at him and smirked.

He shook his head. “No… never…” He tried to work out how close he was to the outhouse. Would he be able to make it in time if he started to leak?

“Come, let’s sit on the settee.” She sat and he staggered over to join her. Linking her arm with his, she asked, “Do you remember when we bought it?”

“I… no.” Jonathan crossed his legs, squeezing them as tightly as he could. He tried to think about other things; perhaps the paintings and ornaments in the room would prove a distraction. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always kept returning to his need, how if he had a chamber pot in front of him right now he would be begging Arabella to let him use it.

The way she looked at him, though; her eyes were full of a desire of such intensity that he had never seen in her before. It was clear that his desperation aroused her in a way that was incomparable to the more traditional sexual acts.

“Not to worry, just that it was very expensive and it would be such a shame if you ruined it, don’t you think so?”

“Yes. I can’t, I can’t go here. I need to go to the outhouse…”

“No. I won’t let you.”

By now Jonathan’s need was so intense that it was painful. When Arabella stood up and held out her hand again, he groaned as he let her lead him around all the most immaculate parts of the house, where it would be inconvenient and indecent for him to let go.

“Look at how well-made these chairs are.” Arabella said when they stood in the dining room. She ran her hand along the back of one of them. “It must have taken ages to carve them, and they’re made from the finest English oak. It would be awful if you were to have an accident in here.”

A drop of urine escaped from his bladder and he yelped and doubled over. “Please, Bel. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“All right, I will take you back to our room now. But you must hold on for as long as you can, is that clear?”

“Yes, Madam.”

The journey back was filled with pain and never-ending thoughts of how wonderful it would be if he could urinate, how pleasurable it would feel.

After what seemed like an eternity, they returned to the bedroom, where Arabella untucked Jonathan’s shirt and marvelled how his lower stomach stuck out, when normally it was flat.

“There must be so much of it in there,” She said. “It must be so desperate to come out.”

“It is… Bel, I am so badly in need of my chamber pot, will you let me use it? I can think of nothing else but using it.”

Before Arabella could reply, though, Jonathan started to dribble. First a few drops came out, then a few more. He tried hopping from foot to foot in order to stop it, but that only worked for a few seconds. Then at last his bladder decided it could take no more. The urine came out fast and thick, and the only thing he could do was stagger over to the chamber pot and squat over it fully-clothed, as there was no time to take his breeches off.

It soaked his breeches and dripped through them, some of it missing the chamber pot and staining the floorboards. Hissing and splashing sounds echoed around the room, and it seemed as if they were the only sounds in the world.

And the _relief_ , Jonathan couldn’t help but moan, “ _Ahhhhhh_ …” his eyes closing in pure bliss. Letting go felt so beautiful that he shivered, and the sound of the pee hitting the chamber pot was comparable to the climax of a symphony.

The stream seemed to go on forever, but when it was finished, Jonathan let out a breath and shuddered. Arabella caught him before he could fall, and helped him to stand. He looked down and saw a dark stain on the floorboards leading to and around the chamber pot.

“You look like you are in need of a bath.” Arabella said.

Still trying to get his breath back, Jonathan nodded, “Yes, and I should take my breeches to be washed, and… what are we supposed to tell the servants about the floorboards?”

“Couldn’t you use magic to clean it?”

“That isn’t exactly an honorable use of magic. What would Mr Norrell say if he found out about it?”

“We could just tell them that it was a spell gone wrong, which is sort-of what happened.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

* * *

About halfway through his time in the bath, Jonathan realised that he no longer had to urinate every five minutes; his ordeal at the hands of Arabella had caused him to forget all about it so that he hadn't noticed its disappearence. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that had undone the spell, and he resolved that when he was finished in the bathroom, he would try to find out if the bladder had any magical properties.


End file.
